The Cashier

Even when they smiled or they talked to me, 
What I purchased was what mattered to me... 
To now be the cashier is comedy;
I'm forced to "ask" about your wellbeing...

None have ever asked of my wellbeing, 
Though I slave for you while baring my teeth 
And prompting debit, or coupons or credit, 
And making sure all you want, you get it... 

At first, I oozed personality, and
Tried to coat my very tongue in silver, 
But my every finger is made of rubber,
And you turn impatient, forgetting you're flattered...

They told me to ooze personality,
While expecting way, way much more of me...
Think! someone used 5 ways to buy 4 things,
Scurried out and away---what personality!!!
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace